Author´s note:

Sorry so much for letting you guys wait so long for a new chapter which (I must admit to my shame) is not even that long. I´m terribly busy at the moment, finding nearly no time to write as my final Exam termpaper takes up much of my time. Still, I hope you don´t mind too much and return for another chappy read and review. Make my days, please, they are rather dull nowadays with all the exam paper stuff.

Meow: Thanks. :-) I might put it to use, although it does not sound exactly like something Erik would say himself... but someone else maybe.

AngelofSnow: This half annoyed half arrogant "please" occured to me when I imagined the situation so I just put it in. Glad you liked it.

Yes, I think he´s a workaholic. And I´m glad you think him rushing of without a plan fit in. I wasn´t too sure about that.

You nearly cried? Wow. That´s a nice compliment. :-) Thanks a lot.

PsychoSpiff: Yes, he is. Poor guy. This aspect of him (and the fact that Ian McKellen took his role) always added to my understanding his actions at least to a certain extent.

2wingo: Indeed. The idea of putting in this father and the little boy was rather spontaneous. It added a terrible extra to his already gruesome nightmares.

Emperor K.Rool: Rather both, yes. Although the latter sounds more likely judging from what I as a history student have grown to know about the Holocaust.

Okay, and now, without further ado...

Chapter 16

His soft spot

The next day he was weary. He simply had not been able to go back to bed after he had awoken in the middle of the night. Although dreams were swift to fade, nightmares of this sort used to haunt him longer than a normal dream would do. He had paced the lair with a restlessness he had not known he still possessed...till dawn had come. How sleeplessness lengthened the hours of the night, he thought when he looked out of the window, out into a chill morning where a cold sun was just beginning its slow rise over a misty horizon. He sighed inwardly while making his way over into the room next to the kitchen, a cup of black coffee in his hands, for a moment giving in to the dreamy illusion that the warmth of it could chase away the cold he was feeling inside.

The room he entered was one of the largest in the lair and for lack of better words the label ´living room´ had proven most fitting, although such a room (just as a kitchen) did somehow not fit into the clichée image of a mansion of Magneto the mutant terrorist. In fact, it was rather a library than a living room, with high, expensive bookshelves made of dark wood running along two of the walls, reaching up to the ceiling. The furnishing of the room was simple yet tasteful and the attribute of elegance was somewhat more appropriate than saying it was sinister, although dark colours dominated. The floor was a dark chestnut parquet, covered for big parts by dark red carpet, the wall left to the door was inhabited by an elegant fireplace and, although Eric had always preferred to spend what little freetime he had with reading than dulling his senses over some stupid movie, the forth wall had a TV set. Somehow it did not fit into the otherwise almost noble looking room.

He had hoped to have some time to himself to spend in solitude, but when he turned the corner to enter the room he heard there was already someone there. The tune of the television set told him, he would not have the room to himself. Mystique was sitting on the leather sofa in her own blue shape, her knees pulled towards her body, her eyes fixed on the screen. She looked miserable, like the child she had once been. As a girl he had often see her sit her like this... he remembered these had been the moments when she had been most vulnerable. He did not have much time to watch her, nor did he have time to make up his mind to leave or stay. She was aware of him after a second and her yellow eyes met his. He realized with a mix of dismay and determination that the angry glare was still obvious in her reptile like gaze. She regarded him for a short moment, then, without paying him further attention, she fixed her eyes on the screen again. He remained standing in the door frame, feeling somewhat displaced, feeling he was losing himself in his own thoughts for a moment, before he turned to go. He had not even bothered to look what programme she was watching. He only knew that at some point it had become awkward to be in the same room as Mystique. He turned around.

"Seems Magneto is back." He stopped in his trails when she uttered those words and for odd reasons her resonating voice was giving him chills down his spine. He turned around to find she had not done equally and was still facing the screen. "You made it on the news again." Her voice was plain, bereft of emotion, there was no mockery in her words, nor anticipation. Nothing. Reluctantly he stepped closer and turned his attention towards the images flickering over the screen.

The scenery was familiar as he at once recognized the street in which the mutant-human streetbattle had taken place. The reporter speaking into the camera, a middle aged human with already greying dark blonde hair, was speaking hasty in a way that was almost annoying.

"...the early hours of the night. Who was behind it is not yet clear, yet several witnesses reported the involvment of a group of mutants. Several injured person were taken to the State Hospital, but none of the mutants could be caught when the police arrived."

The picture switched back and was now showing the newsreader who continued: "Local authorities are currently dealing on uncovering the circumstances that led to these latest events. The government has claimed its right to intervene in the inquiry as, according to a young citizen who got involved in the battle unwillingly with his son, former mutant terrorist Erik Lehnsherr, known as Magneto, has been seen on the site of crime. Magneto has been believed to be no more danger to human society any more due to him being targetted with the cure during the terrorist attack on Worthington Laboratories on Alcatraz last month..."

He had heard enough. It cost Erik only a flick of his thought to switch off the TV. He half expected Mystique´s protest, but when he turned around to leave the room, she kept silent. However, when he entered the kitchen, she was on his heels and when he placed the cup on the counter and turned to meet her gaze she was closer than he had thought. For a split second, something that almost equalled fear flooded his brain. He said nothing.

"I saw you." she said, her voice plain and emotionless as before.

"I saw that human they spoke of in the news. You saved his son."

He could not bear her confront him like this, gave a half angry, half rebuking snort and attempted to make his way out of the kitchen. She blocked it.

"What do you want?" he said in a low voice even she knew was dangerous. "Have you come back to tell me what to do?"

She smiled, then her face became stern again. "No." she said and stepped aside. Erik made no attempt of leaving. She continued. "I just wondered what had happened to the Magneto I once knew." He knew what she was referring to. He knew what she was going to say and he almost hated her for it. "The Magneto I knew would not have saved a human child if it was man against mutant." She half circled him and then, with a smooth movement, jumped onto the counter. "Was that a soft spot...Erik?"

Her mention of his name triggered something he could not name. For a second he was so close to telling her. So close to telling her about his doubts, about Pyro´s ambitions... about that his time as a homo sapiens had opened his eyes to the danger the young mutant was and which he had overseen. But the moment passed. The gaze he gave her was cold. As cold as the one she returned, after a bit of warmth had entered her gaze which she had failed to conceal.